


A Decent Start to Things

by knowyourincantations



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arguments, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures worker Hermione, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Magical Pets, Pet shop owner Pansy, Post-Hogwarts, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowyourincantations/pseuds/knowyourincantations
Summary: or Five Times Pansy Said ‘Fuck You’ and One Time She Admitted She’d Been a Bit of a Bitch





	A Decent Start to Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OTPshipper98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPshipper98/gifts).



> Prompted by rockmarina/otpshipper98: _Five Times Pansy Said ‘Fuck You’ and One Time She Said 'Fuck Me'_ modified to _Five Times Pansy Said ‘Fuck You’ and One Time She Admitted She’d Been a Bit of a Bitch_ because this totally got away from me XD
> 
> I know we talked about that prompt being for a smut fic buuuuut....whoops? XD

**1**

Pansy stomped through the Ministry. People sprang out of her way, but she didn’t notice. All she saw was the quickest path to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The quickest path to Hermione Granger’s desk.

The moment she arrived, she slapped down the parchment she had clutched in one hand and waited for Hermione to look up at her.

“You could have sent an owl,” Hermione said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “Do we have to do this in person every time?”

“An order to hand over my stock for examination? Are you kidding? I _just_ submitted all the paperwork for my last import! My shop is completely above board!” she snapped. “This is harassment!”

With a long suffering sigh, Hermione leafed through a pile of parchment on one side of her desk.

“There was an accusation of illegal smuggling in your latest—”

“Are you _kidding_?” Pansy hissed, digging around in her handbag and slapping down another piece of parchment. “That clutch of eggs was already examined and cleared both outside the UK and upon entry. There are no restricted species among them!”

Hermione found the parchment she was looking for and placed it on top of Pansy’s.

“As an officer of this department, I am legally and morally bound to investigate any and all allegations of the misuse and mistreatment of—”

“Save the speech!” Pansy snapped. “You know damn well that this is just some old pricks with sticks up their arses getting back at me for daring to stay in England after the war. Every time this happens it turns out to be nothing, but I lose money and what little reputation I might have built since the last accusation!”

With another sigh, Hermione turned her chair and rifled through a cabinet behind her. Pansy grit her teeth and resisted the urge to kick her desk.

When Hermione turned back around and held out a familiar form, Pansy snatched it up. It was an empty gesture. No matter how many times she filed a complaint for harassment, nothing changed, and Hermione knew that.

“ _Fuck you_!” she hissed, before turning on her heel and marching out again.

**2**

Pansy cooed softly as she gently brushed each egg with the tip of her thumb. She’d have to triple the amount of time she spent tending them, talking to them, touching them. The stress of an extra and unnecessary examination brought with it the risk of stunted development. Too many unfamiliar hands and voices. Too much exposure to magic. Too many unpleasant emotions to pick up on.

“I’ve got you now, loves,” she whispered, gently touching each egg in turn again and trying to focus on how pleased she was to have them. It wasn’t entirely known at what point in their development they gained their empathic abilities, but she wasn’t about to risk it. She’d know for sure once they pushed some emotion back at her, but that side of it always took longer to develop.

They were curious little snakes, and she was still amazed she’d managed to purchase a clutch of eggs and import them at all.

Out in the front of the shop, she heard the bell above the door ring and sighed.

“I’ll be back,” she whispered, double checking her heating charms before leaving the back room.

She wished she hadn’t.

Hermione was peering into the kneazle enclosure. Pansy didn’t have to see her face to know it was her. She’d recognise the back of that head anywhere.

“What do _you_ want?” she snapped, stepping around the counter and crossing the store.

At first, Hermione didn’t move. She stood there staring at the new batch of kneazle kittens. She could have been there to purchase something, but she was wearing her Ministry robes and Pansy felt her hackles rise.

“I wanted to ask you about those eggs,” Hermione finally said, turning away from the kneazles. “The empathic snakes, _la pequeña musa_ , right? The little muse snake? You only put down the local name, not the official one.”

“They don’t have an official one yet, everyone just calls them _pequeñas musas_. That shouldn’t be a problem, they’ve passed three inspections now. I’m not smuggling anything else in with them! I can’t believe you!” Pansy snapped, starting to shake from the injustice of being so targeted.

She’d just been to Hermione’s office three days earlier to update her kneazle permits. They’d had tea while Hermione had looked the paperwork over. It had almost been pleasant, really. Not to be there to shout at her.

The sudden realisation that she’d let her guard down was more infuriating than the fact she was being inspected again.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she looked down at her clothes. “No, no,” she said quickly. “I’m not here as an officer of the DRCMC. I’m only wearing my uniform because I came here straight from work.”

Pansy inhaled slowly. That didn’t help. That only made it harder to turn her away. She needed all the sales she could get, all the interest she could get. But she could not abide to serve someone who had enabled the harassment campaign against her business.

“Then leave,” she said shortly. “I invoke my right to deny service.”

For a moment, there was utter silence, then Hermione snorted.

“Really? You’re going to be that petty? I’m not the one targeting you. I am required by law to—”

“I don’t care,” Pansy interrupted. “Those snakelets have been through enough. I’m not letting you anywhere near them.”

Hermione groaned and looked around. Her attention lingered on the kneazles again and Pansy was ready to forcibly push her out of the shop before she finally spoke.

“I read the information about them that you attached to the paperwork,” she explained. “I was curious. Are they good companions for people with post-traumatic stress disorder? Or would that kind of owner cause them harm? I understand your notes about their sensitivity to stress while they’re developing, and why all those inspections were harmful, but what about then they’re older? I know they’re mostly owned by creative sorts in Spain, but their empathic abilities seem more suited to soothing trauma than inspiring creativity.”

If that question had come from anyone else, Pansy would have been all too excited to answer. None of her friends were interested in her work, least of all those who still lived in the UK and visited her. They never could understand, even if they did let her go on about it on occasion.

But she wasn’t about to engage Hermione.

“I’m not selling one to you,” she said firmly. “You’re not welcome here.”

Hermione growled and stepped closer. “It’s not for me, you idiot! It’s for Harry!”

Pansy scowled. If he’d been blabbing about her to Hermione she’d throttle him. He’d promised he wouldn’t tell her he’d been dropping in and helping her. She had to deal with Hermione enough as it was for work, she didn’t need her odd friendship with Harry making Hermione think she was welcome outside of work.

Besides, she was already intending on gifting him one for his help. Like hell she was going to let Hermione beat her to it.

“They would not be a suitable pet for him,” she said, hoping that Hermione would just accept it and piss off.

Hermione didn’t seem like she was going to accept it. “I’ve read that—”

“I don’t care what you’ve read,” Pansy said. “I’m the expert here, not you. They would not make a good pet for him.”

One of the kneazle kittens stood up against the edge of the enclosure and meowed loudly and disapprovingly, reacting to her lie. Hermione turned to look at it and Pansy hoped she didn’t know they could do that. There wasn’t much hope, given her job.

“Look, I’ve asked you to leave my shop,” Pansy said. “I have no interest in serving someone who is ruining my business. Get out.”

Hermione turned back to her, eyes wild and hands curled into her fists.

“How many times do I have to—” She cut herself off and growled. For a moment, Pansy thought she might leave, but then she only stepped closer and pointed at Pansy. “Why do you think I keep giving you complaint forms? I’ve co-signed them all. I’ve supported your complaints against the department! I’m trying to help you the best I can but my hands are tied!”

Pansy knocked her hand away and stepped closer. “Try harder!”

Hermione glared at her. With her hair let loose after work and her eyes wild, she looked like some kind of vengeful, frizzy spirit. In all the times they’d interacted because of work she’d never seen her look so wild, even when Pansy was shouting and spewing abuse at her.

It was an attractive look on her, not that Pansy would ever admit it.

“I happen to support what you’re doing here,” Hermione finally said. “You take care of your creatures, you background check customers and refuse to sell to anyone who won’t care for them adequately. You’re a damn good breeder when you turn your hand to it and far better than the other magical pet shop owners out there who dabble in it. I’m _trying_ to help you, but my hands are tied by the law. If you can’t see that then you’re just as stuck up and stupid as you were in school!”

The compliments made Pansy feel annoyingly warm. That wouldn’t do.

“You’re Hermione _fucking_ Granger,” she hissed. “If you want to do something to stop this harassment, no one is going to stop you. You have the names of every person who filed a complaint. I don’t, but I bet they’re the same group over and over, even if they use false names. Maybe even only one person. That can be proven. You could open an Auror investigation on the grounds that they’re wasting Ministry resources with their vendetta, but you don’t. For all you claim you want to help, you’re just fucking useless. There is more you could do, you just _choose_ not too!”

Hermione gaped at her, her jaw moving wordlessly until she finally found words.

“Screw you!” she snapped, turning and heading for the door

“ _Fuck_ you too!” Pansy shouted after her as she left.

**3**

“No,” Pansy said, keeping an eye on two cruppies who were having a bit of a play fight. The last thing she needed was that to escalate and result in scars or chewed off ears. She needed to find a new breeder or finally start breeding them herself. The ones she was getting from her current breeder were more aggressive than they should be at that age. A good owner rendered it a non-issue, but still, it nagged at her.

Harry slumped against the counter. “Come on, I’ve had an awful week,” he moaned. “Just a peek?”

“That’s precisely why I’m not letting you near them,” she huffed. “They can’t handle that kind of emotional strain while they’re developing. Go talk to Mr Hiss.”

Harry glanced over at the snake section. “He’s angry with me for not buying him,” he said. “Won’t talk to me.”

A headache was starting to build behind Pansy’s eyes. First Hermione bothering her about those snakes three days ago and now Harry. She didn’t mind Harry so much, he was brilliant with the snakes, brilliant with all the animals, really. They actually got on rather well since he’d started dropping by. But dealing with another pesky Gryffindor so soon after Hermione was a bit much.

“Maybe you _should_ buy him,” she said. “You did name him.”

“He named himself,” Harry said. “And I can’t buy every snake I talk to. He knows that. He’s just pissy because Rattle was bought last week and he considers himself far superior.”

“I should gift him to Draco,” Pansy snorted. “They’d suit each other.”

Harry laughed and wandered over to the cruppies. She didn’t bother stopping him as he reached in and picked up one of the two that were fighting. Maybe if he cuddled a cruppy he’d leave off about the empath snake eggs.

The cruppy immediately ceased its aggressive posturing and licked at Harry’s face, wagging it’s little forked tail and looking entirely too cute.

Pansy watched him cuddle and talk to it.

“You’re good with crups,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about getting a new breeder or starting to breed them myself. Have you considered getting into breeding?”

Harry snorted. “I already have a job. I’m an Auror.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “And you hate it. They either treat you like you didn’t earn your position, or they treat you like the sun shines out your arse. You hate it there. You complain about it every time you visit. You spend most of your lunch breaks here. For Merlin’s sake, you spend more time here than you do in your own home.”

Harry sighed and kissed the cruppy’s head before putting it back down in the enclosure.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” he muttered.

“I suppose it would be exceedingly difficult,” Pansy said. “Since you don’t know anyone in the magical pet business.”

“Piss off,” Harry muttered, wandering back over to the counter where she was still trying to work on paperwork. She should be doing it in her office, but Harry would only follow her and the snake eggs were in there.

He watched her pour over the stock list and sales projections for a while before sighing. She knew what he was about to say before he said it.

“You know, she really is trying to help you.”

“Don’t talk to me about her,” Pansy said, digging through her papers until she found the financials. “Look at this. I’m in the red because of her, always interfering with shipments, even in sales because some arseholes keep accusing me of selling to people without permits. Or smuggling restricted creatures. As if I would be so stupid.”

Harry looked over the numbers and shook his head. “You know I could fix that for you. Pay you back for always letting me come and de-stress with your animals.”

Pansy snorted. “You idiot, I should be paying _you_ for that.”

“She really admires you, you know,” Harry persisted. “She talks about you all the bloody time. How you refused to leave like so many others, how you keep fighting for your business even when people keep trying to shut you down. How good you are to the animals in your care. She never shuts up about you.”

Pansy’s face felt a bit hot. “Well then she should stop ruining my fucking business!”

Harry stared at her. “I think you’re missing my point.”

She really wasn’t but she wished she was. “I’m not interested.”

“You know that going and complaining to her every time she investigates a complaint against you solves nothing. You still do it. You still march into her office and get in her face about it. You’re not an idiot, you know it doesn’t achieve anything but you still do it. And you do realise not everyone sits down for tea when they’re updating their permits, right?”

“Enough!” she snapped, gesturing to the door. “I’m closing early tonight, time to leave.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “Really? And I thought I was the one avoiding my problems.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she muttered.

Harry smirked. “Oh, come now. We both know I’m not your type.”

Pansy reached out and knocked over the elbow he was leaning on. When he smacked his face on the counter she laughed and went back to her paperwork.

**4**

Pansy was getting far too familiar with Hermione’s office. When she barged in, she drew up short, thrown by the fact Hermione had rearranged her furniture.

“Oh great, you again,” Hermione muttered before covering her face with her hands and groaning.

It was not the greeting Pansy expected, but she pulled herself together and slapped the latest issue of the _Prophet_ down on her desk.

“What the fuck is this?” she asked, sitting down in one of the chairs opposite Hermione’s desk for once.

Hermione pulled her hands away from her face and scanned the front page. Her expression turned into a scowl so dark it made Pansy shiver. She snatched up the paper and started reading it.

“You know, for a moment I actually believed you weren’t actively sabotaging me,” Pansy said, curling her shaking hands into fists on her lap. “For a moment I started to believe you were really tied up by the law. But this? Really?”

The article was about Pansy’s years as a bully and her desperate attempt to hand Harry over to the Dark Lord, along with accusations that she had been secretly involved in Death Eater affairs all through the war, and that she was now smuggling dangerous creatures through her shop for a second rising.

It had already had consequences.

The front of her shop had been defaced and damaged when she’d arrived to open for the day. She’d had to spend all morning moving the more sensitive animals into the back room in case of further vandalisation upsetting them.

The article might blow over in a day or two but, with statements from Hermione herself, that was unlikely. She was done for. Recent criticisms and accusations would never blow over like crap from school would.

For all that she had been angry at Hermione, she hadn’t really thought she would actively sabotage her. She’d actually believed Hermione had a thing for her like Harry had suggested.

Maybe that was her mistake. She’d let her guard down and thought Hermione was harmless beyond what she was legally bound to do as part of her job.

She’d been so stupid.

After a tense silence, Hermione put the paper down. She had the decency to look guilty. The sight didn’t make Pansy feel any better.

“Those comments are out of date and out of context,” she said slowly.

“Like hell they are!” Pansy hissed.

Hermione waited, but when Pansy said nothing more, she inhaled slowly. “I said those things a long time ago. Some during Hogwarts, some right after you tried to...some during the battle. I was overheard, I didn’t directly speak to a reporter like it implies. I didn’t have anything to do with this, Pansy. I haven’t thought that way about you in a long time.”

“And the statements about your investigations into my shop?” she asked, her voice unstable and wavering. She needed to pull herself together.

“Made during inter-departmental meetings, and again, out of context and most certainly not given by me to any reporters. I was trying to explain that the investigations are pointless, wasting resources. I never once implied you were guilty of anything, and certainly not smuggling dangerous creatures for a second rising of the Death Eaters!”

Pansy flinched as Hermione’s voice rose near the end and she shoved her chair back.

“I don’t believe this,” Hermione hissed, raising her hands as if to fist in her hair before realising she had it tied up. Her hands fell to her sides and clenched into fists. “This is because I filed a report with the Aurors. It has to be. The timing is too...but then that would mean—”

The door burst open and Harry stumbled in, an issue of the _Prophet_ crumpled in one hand. “Hermione, have you seen the...Pansy?”

Pansy stood and turned to face him. Before she knew what was happening, he pulled her into a hug. She froze in his arms.

“Are you alright? I am so sorry, this is just...that fucking paper,” he muttered, squeezing her tight for a moment and then letting her go. He turned to Hermione. “I’m going over there to demand they name their sources. I don’t care about journalistic privilege. Those quotes from you are written as if you gave them to the reporter when you didn’t. And I’ll fucking have them for stirring up panic about Death Eaters! We’re already starting to get reports of suspicious individuals that are no doubt just a waste of time and resources. Everyone will be out for blood.”

He turned back to Pansy. “Two Aurors have been assigned to protect you. They went to your shop, I’ll send them a patronus and let them know you’re here. Wait for them before you leave.”

Pansy opened her mouth but he shushed her.

“I also sent some to protect Draco too, and a few other prominent children of known Death Eaters. We had a plan in place for something like this happening, I’m sorry we didn’t get to you before someone attacked your shop. You weren’t hurt?”

“Someone _what_?” Hermione shrieked.

“It’s alright,” Harry said, sounding wild. “They fucked up. Reporting suspected Death Eater activity in the press without first reporting it to an Auror voids journalistic protection. I’ve already sent notice to the Wizengamot to ready themselves. If that journalist doesn’t give me their sources, I’ll take them before the Wizengamot and they will be compelled to answer!”

Pansy sat down again. Everything was happening too fast, she was still reeling from thinking Hermione had done this. Which, really, was so _stupid_ she was rather disappointed in herself. She’d gone and reacted emotionally, not logically.

“I don’t doubt it’s the same bastards who have been trying to shut you down, Pansy,” Harry said. “Probably the same ones who keep setting fires on Draco’s estate and sending death threats to Goyle too. I’ve been saying all along that we should be putting some resources into investigating these things as connected but no one would listen, and now we’re going to have mass Death Eater panic on our hands. I’ll be busy all day, but owl me if you need me!”

“What? Harry, wait!” Hermione moved around her desk but Harry was already rushing out the door.

After a moment, Hermione sat in the chair next to Pansy’s. “Bloody hell.” Then she turned to her suddenly. “Someone attacked your shop? Are you alright?”

With a shaky inhale, Pansy nodded. She hadn’t really stopped to think about it. Getting the sensitive animals to the safety of the back rooms had been more important, and then she’d checked the paper and gone immediately to Hermione.

“It’s fine. Just vandalisation and some light damage,” she muttered, sagging in her chair. Not much, but with the paper, enough to shut her down. After everything she’d poured into that shop, after everything she’d put up with and all the countless, pointless investigations. She was done for now. “I hadn’t arrived yet, I wasn’t there.”

Hermione was silent for a few moments, then she laid a gentle hand on Pansy’s arm that made her flinch.

“When the Aurors get here I’m going with you,” she said.

Pansy blinked at her. “Like hell you are!”

“Please, can we not do this now?” Hermione asked. “I’m coming with you and then I’ll help you fix the damage and make sure your animals are safe and unharmed. I’m not leaving you to deal with this own your own.”

Pansy pulled her arm free and stood. “Stop acting like we’re friends. We’re not. You’re not coming back to my shop with me.”

Hermione stood and put her hands on her hips. “Stop being a stupid, stubborn bitch!” she snapped. Her language made Pansy gape at her but it didn’t even slow her down. “You’ve blamed me all along for this and here I am offering to help fix what parts of it I can. Stop being so bloody stupid and accept the help!”

“I don’t want your help!”

With a loud scoff, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, I know. You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with me, that I’m nothing more than a thorn in your side, but I don’t care. I feel responsible and I’m going to help you.”

Pansy curled her hands into fists. “Helping me with my shop isn’t going to help you get into my pants.”

For a moment, Hermione looked so shocked that Pansy almost laughed. But then her expression turned into something hard and hurt and Pansy suddenly felt like scum.

“If you think that I’m the kind of person to turn something like this into an attempt to further a romantic interest then—”

“Ugh, don’t call it that,” Pansy said, screwing up her face. She wished she hadn’t said anything. It was one thing to pick up on it herself and have Harry all but say it, but to hear Hermione not even deny it? After what Pansy had accused her of?

Hermione stared at her. “Really? You’re above romance are you? It’s beneath you, is it? Something for lesser people? So plebeian you can’t even hear it mentioned without having a fit?”

Quite without her permission, Pansy felt heat flood her face. She’d been accused of that before. It had stung then and it stung now, no matter how much she tried to brush it aside.

“Fuck you,” she said, turning away. “I’ll wait for the Aurors in the hallway.”

She slammed the door behind her for good measure.

**5**

“This is mad,” Pansy said, watching Harry sign yet another sheet of parchment.

“Maybe,” he said, turning to the next sheet. “But you were right. I hate being an Auror. I like helping people, but I hate everything else about it. This last case only made that clearer. All the bullshit that led to it happening when it could have been prevented. I’m done.”

Pansy bit her lip and watched him sign the last document. That was it. They were officially partners. He owned half of her business. More than half, really, with the money he’d poured into it to get them back up and running after she’d had to lay low for so long and incurred nothing but debt.

“It won’t really end,” she said softly. “You may have got them, but others will crop up and try to ruin me. Ruin this business. The public never forgets.”

Harry turned and tickled under her chin with the end of his quill so suddenly she shrieked and almost fell out of her chair.

“You underestimate the power of my fame,” he said with a chuckle. “This isn’t just me picking a new career, it’s also a statement, and after how I hunted down those bastards, I don’t think anyone is going to risk trying to ruin you with lies again. I’ve made my opinion on the matter more than clear. And for once, the papers reported it accurately.”

Pansy shivered. She’d heard about how scary Harry had been when he’d confronted them. She wasn’t vain enough to think it was all about her. She knew what the bulk of it was really about, even if Harry would try to avoid admitting it.

“Even Ron thinks this is a brilliant idea, even though he’s losing his partner,” Harry added. “He’s always said I was happier after spending time in your shop. He started ordering me to visit on my lunch breaks on bad days, remember? Then it became a habit.”

“Yeah, you kept bringing me pastries,” Pansy snorted. “As if I needed placating when really I was glad for the company.”

Harry put his quill down and turned to look at her. They were in her office at her flat. She’d had to transfer all the pets there while she laid low. She couldn’t wait to get back into her shop, even if there was a lot of damage still to repair.

“There’s someone else who would visit you on lunch breaks if you let her,” Harry said carefully. “Someone with a fondness for kneazles.”

“Don’t start,” Pansy said, shuffling the paperwork into a stack and putting it to the side to duplicate and file later.

“Maybe I wouldn’t if I thought there was really nothing on your end,” he said. “But I saw how you looked when I rushed into her office the day that article was published. You looked hurt, not angry.”

With a tired groan, Pansy got up and shuffled out of the office and into the living room. Harry followed, but she ignored him in favour of shushing the cruppies when they started barking at her from their pen by the fireplace.

“You really hurt her feelings, you know,” Harry persisted. “She’s only ever tried to help you, even if it seemed otherwise.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I _know_!” Pansy snapped. “I’m not an idiot. But even though her hands were tied, it didn’t stop the fact she was the one I had to deal with. She’s the one whose name was on all the documentation, the one always stepping in and causing trouble. Why on earth would I want to get involved with someone I have such an awful working relationship with?”

Harry sighed and picked up Mr Hiss before sitting on the chair he’d been occupying. “That’s a fair point, but really, that’s over now. I doubt there will be any accusations or complaints now that my name is on the building too.”

“I used to bully her,” Pansy pointed out. “And she’s always infuriated me. Being interested in her makes no sense.”

Harry smiled. “It never does.”

Pansy scowled at him. Two could play that game. “What about you then?”

“What about me?” Harry asked. She didn’t buy his look of innocent confusion one bit.

“I know another Auror was assigned to all those fires on Draco’s property, and then suddenly you took over for no apparent official reason. You jumped at every excuse to go over there, and from his accounts, you overstayed official business on more than one occasion.”

Harry cleared his throat and looked down at Mr Hiss slithering around his arm.

“Oh, you don’t get to avoid this after pushing Hermione on me,” she scoffed. “I seem to recall showing up one Sunday morning only to find you there asleep on the sofa.”

“I’d had a few too many and fell asleep. He let me sleep it off. What of it?”

With a tutting sound and a shake of her head, she flopped down on the sofa. A wandering kneazle kitten immediately emerged from under the sofa to leap onto her lap. They always managed to get out of whatever containment she put them in. Just like Mr Hiss.

As much as she loved having the company at home, she really couldn’t wait until they moved all the pets back into the shop. They were going to get too attached to her to sell if this went on any longer.

“Just saying, you’re being a tad hypocritical,” she said, scratching behind the kneazle’s ears

Harry groaned. “Fuck off,” he muttered. “He and I have more shit to deal with than you and her.”

“ _You_ fuck off,” she replied. “This is my house, remember?”

With an amused snort, Harry hissed something to Mr Hiss and Pansy scowled. She may not understand parseltongue but she could tell when he was insulting her.

“Fuck you,” she muttered, slouching further into the couch and scratching under the kneazle’s chin.

Harry looked over at her and then down at the kneazle kitten in her lap.

“You know, Crookshanks died last year,” he said suddenly. “It was a big shock for Hermione. He was half-kneazle, he should have lived much longer.”

Pansy frowned, wondering why the hell he was telling her that. “Sometimes the non-magical part of a hybrid wins out. It’s why I won’t deal in those sorts of hybrids.”

Harry watched her pet the kitten for a while before speaking again. “She wants another pet but she’s too scared of getting attached and losing it,” he said softly. “I’ve thought about getting her a kneazle kitten, but I’m worried she won’t accept it.”

“You two think alike. She wanted to get you one of the empath snakes,” Pansy said, looking down at the kitten thoughtfully. “But I was already going to give you one so I told her they’d be a bad pet for you.”

Harry snorted. “Of course you did. How are they by the way? They must be ready to hatch soon.”

“Any day now,” she said, suddenly itching to go check on them. They’d finally starting pushing emotion back at her and now it was almost addictive how calming it was to tend to them. “But you shouldn’t talk about them. You’ll make Mr Hiss jealous.”

Harry sighed and lifted his arm up until Mr Hiss was at eye level. “Yes, he’s not going to make a good pet for anyone. I belong to him, apparently. I can’t seem to convince him otherwise.”

“Take him then,” Pansy said. It wouldn’t make a difference to the bottom line now. Not after how much money Harry had invested.

It itched at her a little, how like charity it was. But then, she knew it was more than that. He was brilliant with all the animals, and it was better to let him join her than start his own competing shop.

“Nah, he can stay in the shop, we just won’t sell him. He likes to be around all the other animals and watch people come and go. He’s rather nosy, and a total gossip. He’s also oddly good at reading people. You remember that bloke who wanted to buy all the cruppies a few months ago?”

“Yeah, don’t remind me. I almost didn’t catch his false documentation in time.”

Harry reached out and brushed a thumb over Mr Hiss’ head. “Mr Hiss had a bad feeling about him from the first time he stopped by.”

“Mr Hiss says that about everyone,” she said dismissively.

Harry cast her a sidelong look. “He had a good feeling about Hermione even though she was yelling at you.”

Pansy scowled at the snake. “Tell Mr Hiss to mind his own damn business.”

“Said he could taste in the air the fact you two both wanted to—”

“I need to go feed the owls,” she said abruptly, standing and plopping the kneazle kitten down on the sofa.

Damned snakes and their damned sense of smell.

**+1**

“Pansy?”

Pansy brushed past Hermione and walked into her house. Harry had been entirely too gleeful when she’d asked him for her address and she was still miffed about it.

“I can’t believe you live so far away from Wizarding London,” she said, looking about the interior of the cottage. “It’s not practical.”

“Oh, by all means, do come in,” Hermione muttered closing the door and crossing her arms. “What do you want? What do you possibly have to yell at me about now?”

Pansy turned her back on her and grimaced. She rather deserved that. Instead of replying she set the kitty carrier down on the nearest surface, a coffee table covered in papers.

“What is that?” Hermione asked, stepping closer as Pansy opened it.

“A peace offering,” Pansy said, picking up the kneazle kitten and holding it to her chest as she turned to face Hermione. “You couldn’t stop looking at the kittens when you stopped by that time. They’ve grown a lot, but they’re not beyond selling yet.”

Hermione stared at it. Her fingers twitched by her sides and Pansy held it out to her.

“This one is the smartest of the bunch,” she said awkwardly.

Hermione stared for so long Pansy started to think she’d made an embarrassing mistake, but then Hermione finally reached out. She gently and slowly took the kitten from Pansy’s grasp and brought to her chest, looking down at it with an expression full of emotion.

It was not a ginger kneazle, which Pansy thought would be a better option. It was dark grey with lighter grey spots. As far from Crookshanks as she could get.

It was a stupid, sentimental gesture and it made her itchy. But she had been rather a bitch to Hermione. She wasn’t above seeing that and apologising, even if it had taken her several days and a few nudges from Harry to get there.

“Anyway, I know you have a permit for owning kneazles from having...from having one before, and because of your work,” Pansy said awkwardly. “You’ll only need to register her within the next week.”

The kneazle kitten started purring and Hermione gently placed it down in the carrier before turning to Pansy.

“A peace offering?”

Pansy nodded and looked away. “It wasn’t your fault. I know you had no choice about investigating me all those time. I couldn’t get at the people who kept reporting me so I took it out on you. And you offered to help after that article and I was...I was a bit of a bitch. I’m...I’m sorry.”

“Well, I did have a choice,” Hermione said, moving closer. “I could have passed off all your cases to another person, but I didn’t think they’d stay professional if you barged into their office to shout at them every time they followed the law.”

That only made Pansy’s behaviour even worse. She pushed down her pride. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Can we start over? I’ve been reliably informed we would get along rather well if we did.”

Hermione stopped in front of her and sighed. “Well, that depends on what you want,” she said. “You’re going to have to be clear with me, so I don’t go pushing any romantic nonsense onto you.”

Pansy cringed. She’d been a bit of a bitch about that too. Hermione had never been obvious enough that she could be accused of using any situation to further her interest. Pansy still felt like scum when she remembered what she’d said to her about it.

“That’s not...that’s not _completely_ unwelcome,” she admitted, her stomach twisting from saying it out loud. “But I think it’s rather ill-advised to start something, given how I spent the last several months shouting at you almost every time I saw you.”

Behind them, the kitten meowed pitifully and Hermione turned to pick it up out of the carrier again.

Pansy used the brief moment without scrutiny to pull an unattractive facial expression, to try and vent away some of her awkwardness before it spilled out in her words again.

If Harry could see this, he’d piss himself laughing. So would Draco for that matter.

Harry had told her that Hermione would forgive her easily, but she hadn’t quite believed him and hadn’t properly prepared herself for how to respond.

A disastrous oversight.

And it didn’t help that she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted either.

“I should leave you to bond,” she said, heading for the door.

“Wait,” Hermione said, and Pansy turned to see her cuddling the kitten to her chest again. “You and Harry open again in two days, right? What if I were to stop by on my lunch break with pastries? Harry told me which ones you like the most.”

That traitor. Pansy would deal with him later.

“Like...like a date then?”

“Would you rather it wasn’t?”

Pansy stared at her. Saying no would be the best course of action. The easiest course of action.

“I don’t know,” she muttered instead. If she ignored all the inspections and work related arguments, if she ignored their past and was just getting to know Hermione as the animal lover she was, the passionate advocate she was, she couldn’t deny her answer would be yes.

Hermione’s expression did something painful. “I sort of thought you were more interested in women than men,” she said awkwardly. “Have I got that wrong? Only, Daphne Greengrass works in the Transport department and she’s said a few things. And you have, er, looked at me a certain way sometimes.”

Heat flooded Pansy’s face. There were a great many things Daphne could, and probably _would,_ say about her if someone asked. None of which she really wanted to know whether Hermione knew.

One resounding thing that now rang out in Pansy’s ears was the accusation she had no heart and couldn’t commit. But then, Daphne had always been an idiot for reading her nervous indecision about things she wanted as deliberate indecision to string someone along.

“Fine, it’s a date,” she snapped, feeling out of sorts as she turned and yanked the door open. She never would have expected Hermione to ask her for a date the first time she spoke to her kindly. She should have prepared for it though. She must look like an idiot going from indecision to snapping an affirmative angrily enough it probably didn’t sound good or affirmative at all. “They better be good pastries or there won’t be another one.”

Hermione didn’t try to stop her from leaving, but her laughter nipped at Pansy’s heels as she left.

Embarrassed as she was, she didn’t entirely hate it.

That seemed a decent start to things.

**Author's Note:**

> This totally got away from me and my original intentions with it but I like where it went =)
> 
>   **This fic is completed and there will be no more.**


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